


Oh Fiery Hero, Oh Dark Villain

by royaltyjunk



Category: Fire Emblem: Seisen no Keifu | Fire Emblem: Genealogy of the Holy War
Genre: Family, Gen, Parent-Child Relationship, Possession
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-16 09:35:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14808785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/royaltyjunk/pseuds/royaltyjunk
Summary: It’s in this chilly winter, slowly turning into spring, that they’re born. Written for Jugdral Week 2018.





	Oh Fiery Hero, Oh Dark Villain

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Ideas: 3/3 of my birthday fics  
> Jugdral Week starting on my birthday????? This is like fate????? Anyways @jugdralweek thank you for hosting this wonderful event orz  
> The themes were hero/villain

It’s the Gran Year 762, the fourth month. Spring is slowly approaching, peeking its head through the window and the clouds and sprinkling Grannvale with soft sunlight and lifting mist.

It’s in this chilly winter, slowly turning into spring, that they’re born.

It’s been a hard pregnancy. Deirdre’s body is still recovering from the sudden collapse she had had after what had come to be known as the Battle of Belhalla. The palace doctors had said it was because of the overwhelming heat and odor that had swamped the entire area as a result of burning an entire army alive, but Arvis hadn’t believed that.

“Sigurd,” Deirdre had whispered under her breath over and over again when she thought no one could hear her. “Sigurd.” Even to this day, she does it.

Arvis had been struck by her the few days after her recovery from her collapse. She had stayed curled up in bed, muttering the name to herself, refusing to get up or even eat until Arvis had thoroughly coaxed her.

He knows now why she had whispered Sigurd’s name under her breath so lovingly, and why she had collapsed.

The grandmother in the Spirit Forest of Verdane had told him everything. About Cigyun, his mother, and about Deirdre, his half-sister.

“She left the forest with a youthful knight. Their eyes were so full of love I couldn’t bring myself to stop her… just like I couldn’t stop Cigyun from leaving so many years ago…”

Cigyun. The name of his mother, and the name of Deirdre’s mother.

“Cigyun… my beautiful daughter. She left the Spirit Forest almost twenty five years ago. She came back years later bearing a child. You can probably guess… that was Deirdre. Cigyun said Deirdre was her second child. That first child… I do not know who they are or where they are now.”

It’s him. Arvis, child of Victor, is also the first child of Cigyun. Yet, Grandmother didn’t know that.

“King Arvis… I must tell you of a great secret that Deirdre harbors. I pray that you will continue to love her and care for her, even after I tell you…”

“Of course,” he had murmured, speaking up for the first time since Grandmother had started to tell of Deirdre and Cigyun.

“Deirdre is… of the Loptyr bloodline. The legends say that all that carried the blood of Loptyr were exterminated… but that is not correct. One was hidden away, and he continued his bloodline in seclusion… in this very forest. The Prince Maera… that was her predecessor’s name.”

But Arvis had already known that. He had known since he was but a child, he had known since the mark of a dark dragon had manifested in between his bony shoulder blades and his mother had buried her face in her hands and sobbed.

“I pray—no, I beg of you… please, look after her.”

“Of course,” Arvis had promised.

The sunlight had slipped through the thick trees of the Spirit Forest then, and for a moment he had seen Grandmother’s elderly face, sage and wise. Beneath her face, marked on her neck, had been a dark dragon, the very dragon that had once destroyed his childhood innocence and his mother’s joyfulness. Then, the light had faded away, blocked by a bird, and the only source of light that had been left was the small flame in Arvis’s palm.

Ever since that day, Arvis had tried to keep the deep secrets he had learned from tearing him apart. He loves Deirdre, no matter what. Their love is genuine. There is nothing in the world that can tear them apart, not even the dark truth behind their lineage.

And so, in the Gran Year of 762, as winter is turning into a blossoming spring, Deirdre bears her children after a difficult and laboring pregnancy.

That had been another part of her difficult pregnancy. The doctors had told them six months into Deirdre’s pregnancy that she was to have twins. It had been good news that quickly became a worry. Arvis had spent day after day worrying about the pains that Deirdre had been having, about all the possibilities that could come from birthing twins.

Yet, as he looks at them, two babies bundled in cloth and hugged tight to Deirdre’s chest, all the worries and thoughts of the past disappear.

“What angels,” Arvis whispers. He brushes a finger along the foreheads of each of his children. “Our sweet children…”

“Yes…” Deirdre murmurs in agreement, her tired face stretching into a great smile filled with love. “Our… children…”

It’s like magic. One look at his wife and his children, and everything he had been thinking about leaves his mind, only filling him with love.

“True love is a magic unconquerable by anything,” Cigyun had once told him.

Arvis can’t help but believe it.

~ / . / . / ~

Aida watches fondly as Deirdre cradles Julius to her chest. Arvis, in turn, holds Julia close to his chest, looking down at her with affection in his eyes.

“They sleep like little kittens,” Aida comments. “Softly and soundly.”

“Was Saias not a sound sleeper…?” Deirdre questions softly, tilting her head. Aida laughs and shakes her head.

“He was a little rascal. Didn’t give me any mercy. I think Arvis can attest to that.” Aida shoots a look over at Arvis. He doesn’t respond, preoccupied with staring at his daughter’s peaceful and slumbering face. Deirdre smiles before turning back to Aida.

“Are you tired…? You should go to bed if you are…”

“Don’t worry about me,” Aida replies, smiling. “I had some tea just a few hours ago, so I’ve still got some energy in me. Besides, I’ve got some papers to finish filling out. I can spare a moment or two.”

Julius stirs against Deirdre’s chest, blinking bleary eyes open. Instead of wailing as everyone in the room had stiffened in anticipation, he reaches chubby hands outwards, grasping at Deirdre’s hair.

He runs his piggy fingers through the tangled strands, making her wince a little. She untangles his fingers from her hair and lets him grip onto her finger.

“A fiery one, despite his appearance,” Arvis murmurs, a soft smile on his lips. “But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

There’s a fire in his heart too.

~ / . / . / ~

“And so, the princess married the knight and lived happily ever after...” Deirdre smiles at her children as she closes the book.

“What do you think?” Arvis asks.

“I liked it!” Julia smiles. Julius nods in agreement.

“What was your favorite part…?” Deirdre questions.

“The part where the knight beat up the bad guy!” Julius replies immediately, leaping out of the blankets and at his father. “The way he never gave up until the end! It sounds like you when you do paperwork, Father!”

Deirdre bursts into tinkly laughter, and Arvis wrestles Julius off of him, chuckling.

“You don’t learn anything good from me, do you?”

“No!” Julius giggles as he answers. Arvis grins.

“Then I’ll have to take your mother hostage until you learn something good!” Arvis cries, reaching for his wife.

“Ah!” Deirdre mockingly cries, trying to hide a smile behind her hand.

“I’ll save you, Mother!” Julius barrels into Arvis and his father feigns a painful scream before falling onto his back. Julius stands triumphantly over his father, a toothy smile on his lips.

“Thank you, Julius!” Deirdre laughs, scooping up her son in her arms. Julia joins in with the laughter from her place on the bed. “You’re my hero!”

“Yeah! I beat the bad guy!” Julius cheers. “Take that, you horrible monster!”

After that day, Deirdre takes to affectionately calling him her hero. He can’t help but feel proud every time she does.

~ / . / . / ~

Julius frowns as he opens the door to another room and is greeted with nothing. No fire-red hair, no lit candles, no fire in a palm as he stretches the flames into illustrious shapes.

“Where is Father?” Julius mumbles to himself as he closes the door. He’s already searched the east wing of the castle, like he’s supposed to, but his father isn’t in his study or the library or any of the rooms he’s searched, and he’s not sure where he could be. After all, the west wing of the castle is where the priests stay, and his father dislikes disturbing them and so never goes there.

Besides, his mother and his sister have already searched outside of the castle and haven’t found his father either—he can only be in the east wing of the castle.

Julius walks around the corner in confusion and almost bumps into a man. He starts and apologizes before glancing up. The man’s face is unfamiliar, and his robes are that of a priest’s; Julius can’t help but ask, “Who are you?”

“My name is Manfroy.” When he speaks, there’s a rasp in his voice, and his face shifts with wrinkles. He must be old and sage if he’s at the castle.

“Hello Manfroy,” he greets. “Have you seen my father?”

“Lord Arvis? I cannot say I have. Would you like me to help you find him?”

“Yes, please,” he replies. “Thank you.”

“There is no need for thanks, Prince Julius,” Manfroy says, gesturing for the prince to follow him. He does so, following after the elderly priest. “I believe I may know where your father is.”

“Where?” Julius asks curiously.

“Someplace secret,” the man replies, a small smile on his lips. Julius follows after Manfroy excitedly.

They go back down the stairs that Julius had emerged from, and then towards the exit leading to the garden. Julius blinks, and starts to tell the priest that he’s already searched there, but Manfroy takes a left, pushing open a set of doors that lead to a large hall that holds lines of tomes along the walls. Julius had never thought of checking that hall—his father had always said it was the palace’s collection, and that he had no interest in it.

To think his father had been in here the entire time. Manfroy holds the doors open, and Julius rushes forward.

“Father!” Julius cries. His father turns and then starts, almost dropping his tome as his son jumps into his arms.

“What are you doing here?” Arvis asks, and then lifts his gaze to see Manfroy. A chilly silence drifts between the priest and his father.

“Mother wants to visit the marketplace with all of us, but we couldn’t find you. We’ve been looking everywhere!”

“I see,” Arvis murmurs, setting Julius down. “Tell your mother I’ll be right there. Go on.”

Julius nods and hurries out of the hall. As he leaves, he hears his father and the elderly priest, Manfroy, speaking in low, threatening voices. He brushes it off and hurries away from the hall and to his mother, awaiting her hero.

~ / . / . / ~

“Julius,” his father starts, “I think you should stay away from Manfroy.”

Julius blinks. It’s been a few weeks since he had started taking lessons from the elderly priest. His father had always held a wary look in his eyes whenever Manfroy comes up in their conversations or when Arvis runs into him in the hallways.

“I know it may sound harsh,” Arvis continues, “but Manfroy is… not to be trusted. You must believe me, Julius, when I say it’s for the best that you don’t study under him anymore.”

Julius frowns. “Why?”

“Julius, just do as I say for once,” Arvis insists. “Please, I—”

“Why?” Julius presses. “Why should I, Father?”

“Julius, please!” Arvis shouts, and then wrings his hands out. There’s a tone in his voice that sounds like he’s begging, but Julius just wants to know—

“Why!?” Julius shouts back before biting his lip. He’d never shouted back at his father, ever.

“I'm worried! I don't want you to be hurt!”

There’s something in his father’s eyes that he’s never seen before. It’s fear, genuine fear, and Julius doesn’t know what to say, or even how to react.

“...Manfroy is not the man you think he is,” Arvis finally says after a prolonged moment of tense silence. “Manfroy… he is not a man that can be trusted. Please, Julius.”

Julius sets his jaw. “Well he doesn’t seem like someone untrustworthy,” he replies.

“Julius, listen to me for once, please.”

“I want to. But Manfroy’s smart and wise, you barely have time to teach me, and Mother said I'm not fit to learn light magic with Julia. He's the only one who can teach me what I want to know. Besides, I've improved!”

As if to prove it to his father, he opens his palm. A flame sparks and hovers above his hand, not stopping or petering out.

“I can use fire magic now! Before, I could barely use it!”

Arvis grits his teeth. Julius knows his father is fighting a losing battle, and his father knows it too, because he casts his glance down and clenches his fist.

“I know you don't want me studying under him, but who else can I study under?” Julius presses.

“...Very well,” Arvis relents. His nails dig deeper into the skin of his palm. “...Just… stay safe.”

“...Thank you, Father,” Julius murmurs, and closes his hand. The fire extinguishes itself, and all that's left is the power of magic that he’s learned, pumping through his blood.

~ / . / . / ~

Manfroy is waiting for him in the magic hall when he arrives. Julius greets him coolly, and Manfroy bows.

It’s been one year since that fight with his father over Manfroy. Even now, he doesn’t understand the worry that had been written all over his father’s face. After all, Manfroy has been nothing but kind and willing to teach him.

Yet this time there’s a spark in Manfroy’s eyes, and Julius can’t help but feel like his father might have been correct once. Before Julius can say anything, he pulls a black tome from his cloak and pushes it into Julius’s hands.

His vision blurs, and then his world dims with such a dark purple that it can only be described as evil.

When his vision clears, his mother and Julia are standing in the hallway, screaming something to Manfroy. His mother has an Aura tome in her hands and Julia clings to her skirts.

Julius tries to yell at them to leave, that something is happening, but his body only manages a strangled stream. He’s wrestling with something swamping his conscience, grappling against the dark magic taking over his mind.

His hand is trembling; he’s trying to force it down, but it won’t listen to him. Instead, it listens to the dark magic consuming him. His fingers snap together, and a large purple dragon explodes from the book in his other hand. It races through the air towards his mother, who attempts to break it with a blast of Aura. Julius knows the extent of his mother’s power—there is nothing that should be able to stop it.

Yet, the magic continues on without a single moment of deterrence. The Aura magic disappears as soon as the dark dragon charges into it, and Julius manages a scream of terror.

Then the darkness takes over him. He sees bits and pieces: Julia disappearing in a circle of magic, blood-spattered, as their mother warps her away, his fingers snap again, this time with fire, and then his mother is collapsing to her feet in front of him.

Finally, the darkness clears. He’s left staring at bloodstained hands—his—and her body—her corpse—covered in blood. She’s virtually unrecognizable, burned with dark magic, and her hair has been charred with fire magic, leaving an unpleasant smell in the air.

The only thing identifiable about her is the glowing mark on her forehead, the mark that had once been obscured by a circlet.

Did she… No, did he? What… had happened? Confusion and grief cloud his senses, and he wants more than nothing to toss aside the tome in his hands, to kneel beside his mother, screaming and crying until his throat goes hoarse, but his body won’t obey him.

It steps over the corpse of his mother, approaches Manfroy, and grins maliciously.

“This is our first step to the Loptyrian Empire,” he says. His body refuses to cry. Instead, it conjures a dark flame to his hand.

And then Julius knows he is no longer his mother’s hero. He's her villain, her archenemy, the one who slaughtered her and chained away the other part of himself.

~ / . / . / ~

They all say that he has changed. Many people say it is because of the death of his mother, or the disappearance of his sister. Only a few people know of the truth.

That he had changed against his will. That he was not the Prince Julius that people claimed to know, that he was not the kind prince that people had once thought he was.

They are right. Of course he has changed. The kind Prince Julius that everyone had known would never start child hunts, nor would he tell off his father or abuse his power as imperial prince. Everyone who lives in Belhalla knows that.

Yet there’s nothing they can say or do. What has become of their prince is something that is irreversible.

Besides, they’re not wrong. All he is is a husk for the god Loptyr.

Julius can only watch on in despair as his body moves against his own will, as his lips fire off orders that he would never say, all of them by the god Loptyr under the guise of “Prince Julius”, imperial prince and the son of King Arvis.

He wants to scream and shout that it’s not him, that he’s not the one giving the orders, but the god Loptyr pounds his conscience away, and Julius can only watch on in despair.

His country suffers under the demands of Loptyr and the secret reconstruction of the Loptyrian Empire. The people close to him suffer because of his change.

Arvis walks the halls of Belhalla with a regretful look upon his aging face, although no one can quite pinpoint where his regret lies. Is it not being able to stop his son’s harsh ways? Is it not being able to protect his wife and daughter? Or is it something buried in the past, something that he had pushed away only for it to come back and haunt him?

Aida leaves the royal residence. “I have a child to look after,” she explains, but everyone knows that's a lie. Saias is already thirteen, and is part of the clergy—he needs no looking after anymore. The true reason lies in the burns of dark magic she’s unable to hide with her gloves and coat, the ones snaking along the side of her face and around her neck.

Ishtar distances herself from him. She still cares for him, of course, but there's something forceful in his eyes when he invites her to join him in an activity or at an event. She finds herself feeling unnerved when they go to the garden on walks like they usually do and he kneels down, but instead of picking a flower for her he squishes all the bugs in the patch, a cruel fire alight in his eyes. She stops laughing when he jokes about having servants killed for joking with her, because he gets a jealous expression so strong and full of rage when one of them does that no one dares approach her unless they’re asking about her comfortability.

And then, the child hunts start, and he—Loptyr, not him—leads the first one in Belhalla.

Julius screams when Loptyr stretches his hand out and burns the group of defiant children standing in front of him. All Julius can think about is how he had once known that boy who had stood protectively in front of his siblings and friends, how he had once greeted him every time in the market, and how he had bought him the very sword he is using right now.

“Prince Julius!” the boy had screamed. “Prince Julius, please stop!”

One moment later, he’s alight in fire, and there’s nothing Julius can do to help him.

The child hunts continue after that. He—Loptyr—loops in every leader he can. The Empire becomes an oppressive force, searching every nook and cranny of the countries they’ve usurped for any and all children.

The troops drag children away from the crying arms of their mothers and the fierce protectiveness of their fathers, away from their friends and their siblings, and the Loptyr Sect changes them into unrecognizable figures; into piles of ash or people who willingly throw themselves into rebuilding the Loptyrian Empire.

And then, after four years of suffering and crying and screaming for it to stop, the heroes rise up. A group of Crusader’s children in Isaach, they tell him. Julius thanks the gods for answering his seemingly fruitless prayers and Loptyr snarls, curling his lip.

They meet Ishtar up almost a month later, who tells them distressingly that the rebel army has taken Melgan, killed Ishtore, and is approaching Alster, where her father is.

“Please,” she pleads, “Let me go to Alster. I can’t leave my father alone!”

Loptyr hisses possessively, but she goes anyways—they all know it’s so she can stop the child hunts, so she can aid her family when the time comes for their inevitable fall in this rebellion.

At least, that’s what Julius hopes this rebellion will lead to. He hopes that this revolution will become the fall of the Loptyrian Empire his body has been working to build, the fall of the corrupt powers weaving through the empire. He prays to the gods, not even sure they’ll listen, but hopes they will, because the last time he prayed this fervently they actually listened.

So when Loptyr and Julius hear about the fall of Alster, Bloom’s final stand, and Ishtar’s appearance on the battle, Julius celebrates while Loptyr warps them away from Belhalla and onto the battlefield beside her.

That’s when they see him and her. Seliph, Prince of Light. Julia, Grannvale’s royal princess, beside him. Both of them are poised to strike at Ishtar, but when he appears, they start. Seliph almost drops his sword, and Julia simply stares before gripping her head, shaking and trembling. The last thing Julius sees before Loptyr whisks them and Ishtar away is Seliph holding her as she tightens her hands around her head, screaming in anguish.

The next time they meet is when Arion nearly falls in battle. This time, Seliph screams for them to come back, Julia averts her eyes and begins to tremble like she did last time, but Loptyr simply stares at him coldly. Julius screams for Seliph to end the war, that he believes in him, that he believes in everything he’s doing. Then they all disappear, taking a bleeding Arion back to the halls of Belhalla.

They go to Miletos a few months later, after Arion has returned to Thracia under orders to embark for Grannvale again when he is summoned. They stay in the castle of Miletos, and Ishtar pays him a visit. It is in the middle of this visit that the rebellion’s forces strike.

Chronos falls but Hilda makes it out safely—there’s a flash of wicked glee in Loptyr’s eyes and a pang of rage in Julius’s heart. Ishtar just lets out a sigh of relief. She and her mother may disagree when it comes to the child hunts, but she is still her mother.

His father comes to see him after Rados falls; more so, he comes to see Ishtar than his son and so Loptyr steps into the middle of their conversation. Julius almost cries when he sees the crestfallen look on his father’s face after Loptyr snaps at him angrily.

When Seliph comes upon both he and Ishtar, standing outside of Miletos, Julius yells at him to stay away. And, as if he had heard him, he does. Everyone rushes for Ishtar first, striking her down, and when she goes down, Loptyr warps them away. All they hear is the screams for him to come back.

Julius realizes too late that Julia hadn’t been by Seliph’s side this time. He sees her when Loptyr goes to Chalphy and finds her there with a defiant look in her eyes.

“What have you done with Julius?” she demands, and Julius pounds and bangs and fights against the darkness holding him back, but it’s no use. Loptyr orders her to be taken away to Velthomer, and then leaves for Belhalla.

And then, the final battle. Everyone has fallen—Rodan, Brian, Scorpio, Hilda, Meng, Bleg, Maybell, Ishtar, Manfroy, and his Deadlords. Arion has betrayed them, allying himself with the Liberation Army.

Loptyr screams with rage when Julia removes the book from her cloak and sends a dragon of light racing through the air towards him. Julius cries out in joy.

Every hit he takes, Julius’s control grows. He stops fighting back, letting the light magic seep into his body and purge his mind of everything he’s suffered from for the last four years. He lets himself fall to the ground, exhausted and beaten; Loptyr is beaten. He’s finally gone.

“Ju...lia…” he whispers, reaching his trembling fingers towards the figure standing in front of him.

“Julius!” she cries, but her voice sounds so distant even when she kneels in front of him, pulling his head onto her lap.

He winces, and hears a sharp intake of breath from Julia as she touches a gentle hand to his arm. He’s sure the lacerations of light magic are burned onto his skin.

“Is it…” Julia begins, “Is it really… you?”

“It… I…” He’s cut off by a flash of light magic in front of his eyes; an aftereffect of Naga’s magic as it slowly stops his body and tears him down in an attempt to erase Loptyr from this world.

Loptyr’s already gone, he wants to scream. Leave me alone. I didn’t want any of this to happen. I just want to live and breathe and be happy. I have a family, I have people I love. Leave me alone.

Instead, he coughs, his body spasming. A few seconds later, he feels blood building up in the back of his throat. He coughs again, and blood bubbles to his lips.

“Julius!” Julia screams, and he’s blinded with another flash. When his vision clears and then clouds again, there’s a figure with blue hair looking down at him, kneeling beside Julia.

“Julius?” The wavering voice and splotches of dark magic burns on his face tell him that it’s Seliph, his and Julia’s half-brother. “Is… Are you…”

“Seliph…” Another flash of light magic blinds him, and he turns onto his side as he coughs again, violently this time.

Blood splatters across the sheer white material of Julia’s dress, but she pays it no attention, only pulling Julius to sit upright before hugging him, tears streaming from her face.

“I knew it… I knew you weren't at fault,” Julia sobs. “Julius…”

“Julius…” Seliph murmurs, “My brother…” Julius feels a gentle hand on his back, and Seliph, pressing his face into Julius’s shoulder, wraps his arms around the twins.

“Seliph, Julia…” Julius coughs again, and then manages a smile, a shining smile, through all the hurt and the pain. “I’m sorry… for everything…”

“Oh… I…” Julia swallows, holding back tears. “It’s… not your fault, Julius…”

“Thank you… for stopping me…” he coughs, glancing up at his sister and his half-brother as he wipes the blood from his lips. “Thank you… for playing the heroes… to my villain…”

The light flashes in his eyes again, brighter and angrier, as Naga’s magic continues its course through his mind and body, destroying him bit by bit. He feels his stomach turn over, and blood hits the back of his throat. He chokes, his chest spasming as he heaves for air through the crashing of blood against his teeth. Another flash of light magic has his lungs clogged, and his vision dims, just like the way it had dimmed when he’d first received the Loptyr tome. He feels himself lulling forward, slumping against Julia.

“Julius?” Julia asks. Through all the pain and hurt, he feels a hand on his chest. “Julius?”

All he can manage is a heavy cough that only brings up more blood to his throat. His vision darkens; he can’t breathe, he’s suffocating, he’s dying.

Julius closes his eyes. Another flash of light magic engulfs him, and he mouths two words against Julia’s shoulder. Seliph touches a frantic hand to his neck, to his wrist, and then says something that loses itself in the murky depths of Julius’s mind.

All he knows is that the villain has been overthrown, the heroes have won, and all he can mouth to them is “thank you”.


End file.
